


Room 221

by whatswithmegan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Laundry day, Red Pants, Teenlock, Uni!lock, college!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatswithmegan/pseuds/whatswithmegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for nocturebychopin for the Johnlock gift exchange (November) who wanted Uni!lock (bonus red pants)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room 221

Thursday night. When all the other boys at school were going out and drinking at the local pub, John Watson was doing laundry. He couldn’t afford to have a hangover with early Friday morning rugby practices. 

He had music blaring through his headphones, trying to drown out the noise of the loud machines, and the music coming from the dorm rooms directly adjacent. Grumbling, he laid back on the washing machines and flipped through the last pages of his Chemistry homework packet.

Thursday night. While all of the other students were getting drunk, Sherlock Holmes chose to take care of his laundry in the almost abandoned laundromat on campus. He had put his clothes to wash and left, expecting that when he came back the room would be empty, just as he liked it. He didn’t care for friends and would avoid any and all interactions with his fellow students. 

What he didn’t expect to find was John passed out on the washing machines. He frowned, unsure if the boy was doing his laundry drunk, or was doing the same thing he was, avoiding their drunk classmates.

He walked over to his machine with his wet clothes, cursing John for having fallen asleep on top of his machine.

When the door to the machine jostled open, John bolted awake, blushing as he saw Sherlock beneath him. “Erm, sorry,” he mumbled, sliding off the machine and going over to the dryer to get out his clothes.

Sherlock glared at him, not intending to be cruel, he just never liked the rugby boys. And he especially didn’t get along with the captain, Victor Trevor. He pulled his clothes from the washer and brought them over to the dryers, filling the machine two down from John.

John tossed his dry clothes onto the table in the middle of the laundromat, there was no room to fold his clothes in his dorm, might as well just get it over with in here. A few shirts, a couple trousers, his rugby uniform, and then his boxers. He frowned, he was missing something.

Sherlock glanced over at John’s dryer, watching as he began to fold his clothes. He blinked, noticing that he had left something in the dryer. “Excuse me…” he started, his voice soft.

John spun around, his blush deepening as he saw his red pants lying prominently in the machine. He lunged forward and grabbed them, stuffing them in the pile of his boxers. “They erm… They were a gift from my mum…” he explained, stumbling over his words.

“I never asked.” Sherlock returned, closing the dryer door.

John kept his eyes on Sherlock, “Right, erm, sorry.”

Sherlock looked up and met his eyes, frowning gently.

John returned the look, “Is something wrong?”

Sherlock shook his head, looking away from John. “I assume the proper response would be to apologise that you broke up with her.”

John snapped his head back to Sherlock, “E-excuse me?” he stuttered.

“The pants, they weren’t from your mum, they were from your ex-girlfriend, you broke up because she cheated on you while you were both drunk. You kept the pants because she was the first girl who had ever bought you underwear. Sentiment.” he rattled off, unable to stop himself. Though he didn’t care, he never cared what people thought of him.

John blinked, his jaw having dropped. “How … How did you know about Jonelle?”

“Jonelle…” Sherlock repeated, “Is that her name?”

“Yes, how did you know why we broke up?” John barked, feeling anger rise in his chest. No one knew about that night, no one.

Sherlock shrugged, “It’s obvious.” he tilted his head to the side gently, “she also said you have brown eyes… And that bothered you.”

“They’re grey.” John muttered. “They’re weird.”

Sherlock nodded courtly, not wanting to mention how he had always been fascinated by John’s grey eyes. They weren’t weird, he thought they were interesting, it wasn’t every day that he met someone with grey eyes. But he kept the words to himself. Another day.. then he would tell John.

John shrugged again, “Whatever. It was… It was nice to see you, Sherlock.” he said, picking up his laundry basket.

John shrugged again, “Whatever. It was… It was nice to see you, Sherlock.” he said, picking up his laundry basket.

Sherlock stood up with him, “You know my name?”

John nodded, a slightly confused look on his face, “Of course, why wouldn’t I know your name? You’re the smartest boy in school. Everyone knows your name.”

“They know me because they hate me.” Sherlock corrected.

“They might - but I don’t.” John said firmly, “You make class more interesting, especially when you correct our chemistry professor.” he laughed.

Sherlock gave John a soft smile, “He’s an idiot.”

John grinned brightly. “You know… I’m trying to avoid writing this essay for class… If you’re interested…” he let the words fade out, shrugging.

Sherlock blinked once, understanding. “Room 221.” he said, nodding.

John blushed, “Room 221.”


End file.
